


rain still falls | one-shot

by songintheglaciers (awyr)



Series: death and I, we go hand in hand [3]
Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Twins, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, How Do I Tag, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reincarnation, Swearing, Swordfighting, go and die morgif
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28903074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awyr/pseuds/songintheglaciers
Summary: "Yuu?" He blurts. His voice sounds different than what he expected. Different like his tongue, like the burn of his lungs for every breath he takes. Like fire. It's disconcerting, warping, and it makes him feel sick and lost like he's been shoved into a box he's outgrown."Yuu," Yujiro repeats firmly, and again as if to ground himself, "Yuuri."He's Yujiro. Yujiro Shibuya.Or the 27th Demon King has an overprotective sword fiend as another older brother.[a one-shot which might turn into a long fic]
Relationships: Original Character(s) & Original Character(s), Shibuya Yuuri & Original Character(s)
Series: death and I, we go hand in hand [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2118975
Kudos: 4





	rain still falls | one-shot

**Author's Note:**

> i had this chapter lying around for like eight months & thought i might as well just share it. i wont consider updating it until i finish 'the wind's hymn' but this does contain spoilers about Alec's past. read at your own risk if you read both rewrites.
> 
> i hope you enjoy this chapter.

Yujiro shoves his black hair back away from his eyes, sucking in lungfuls of air as he painfully blinks rapidly at the unfamiliar world.

While the suffocating sunlight from the burning white sun beats overhead, aquamarine blue floods his sight, rolling with impermanent and stunning white clouds. A shiver rumbles down his spine, heavy warmth brushing his cold skin. He tilts his head left, past Yuuri, to a flourishing woodland. The vivid green of trees sprawling back is ravishing, leaving him breathless in silence except for the twittering and rustling of branches.

Then Yujiro reluctantly shifts his sight to the other side. There lays a stone house sitting upon a vast meadow. It stretches in a slope and far ahead, goats or sheep dot the land. It's not much compared to the woodland but compared to the city, and everything modern in their world, it leaves some sort of peace curling in his weighted chest.

"Do you remember the Star Tours ride we grew tired of?" he breaks the silence, shifting his gaze to the younger twin, their water-weighed limbs sprawling on the well-trodden dirt road like wet rats.

"Yeah?" Yuuri turns to look at him.

"I didn't think this is what it would be useful for."

"Weren't we just kidnapped to the Alps?" Yuuri snaps up, eyes narrowed sceptically.

"Where on Earth did you get that from?—" Yujiro's nose wrinkles, eyebrows creasing and eyes screwing shut in a sudden sneeze. "Toilets lead to the sewers, not this. We were pulled through the water."

"What?" His brother's jaw slacks, disbelief crossing his face as he leans forward with wide eyes. Then he looks somewhere else, perking up and pulling Yujiro's attention.

He follows his eye line, observing the young lady. Her eyes widen and the wicker basket under her arms falls on the floor, red apples spilling apples across the ground.

Yujiro notices they aren't waxed before jumping to his feet, yanking Yuuri up with him by his arm.

"A cosplayer?"

"Really, Yuu?" Yujiro hisses, eyes sweeping to take in her out-of-date outfit: a long skirt just shy from dragging across the ground, and old-fashioned triangular straps tied at her chin.

Where are they?

His eyes narrow when he takes another look at her blue eyes and dull blonde hair when a scream rips out her lips, her finger stabbing in their direction.

Yujiro's lips press into a hard line, pulling his soaked blazer up—it weighs down on his body, clinging to his skin like the rest of his clothes, like burdens.

The lady's scream substitutes for a siren and he yanks Yuuri away. One by one people run out their stone fairy-tale houses, quickly climbing up the slope. Men, women and children make up the mob, all resembling typical Caucasians.

"What's happening? Why're we running? Why're they chasing us?" Yuuri gasps as they both clamber towards the woods. He tears his sight away from the ten or more people chasing them with ploughs, hoes and sickles, eyes wide and fixed forward.

"Witch trials. _We're_ the witches. C'mon, catch up," the younger twin hisses in-between pants, clasping Yuuri's hand tighter to keep up when a macho figure appears ahead of them.

The man on horseback barks incomprehensible orders. He's garbed in clothing of higher quality than the villagers with a physique resembling the stereotype of American football players of European descent, possessing dazzling blonde hair and turquoise blue eyes, a split chin and a fine, long hooked nose slightly inclined to the left with large nostrils.

Yujiro puts his body in front of Yuuri, eyes narrowed and lips pressed into a hard line. The man descends from his horse, lowering into a kneel.

His jaw clicks, shoulders snapping rigid with tension, watching the blond like a hawk. The man meets his eyes, stretching his large hands towards his head.

Yujiro's foot is in mid-air when Yuuri jerks him back with too much force. His head hits the ground, wincing and dizzy when he scrambles up.

Alarm sinks in the pit of his abdomen. The blonde man has his hands clamped around Yuuri's head.

Yujiro darts, quick to pry the sheathed sword snuggled next to the man's waist. It's familiar in his grip and the blade flashes, pressed against the man's neck in the area where the carotid lies beyond.

His grip is steady and confident, yet the man doesn't flinch when Yuuri releases a yelp.

His long fingers curl tighter, eyes boring into the man's face.

When Yujiro presses slightly harder, familiar confidence swells in him once the man relaxes his grip.

Yuuri falls on the ground, eyes wide in shock. Yet when he bolts to pull his brother away from the man, he finds the same hands now clamped on his head.

Something about what burns in those blue eyes makes his blood boil, as does the cotton stuffed in his brain. His head feels like it's ringing, and he's acutely aware he's kicked his foot into the man's abdomen.

"Ack—"

There's a burst of colours. A mish-mash of something and it overloads his brain. An anchor of something's been released, a flood, a voltage set too high and it's searing him.

And now, now he doesn't know who he is anymore. Like he doesn't have the capacity to cope with the onslaught of the cacophony inside him and in his ears.

It's a shrieking klaxon, stabbing his brain and clogging his throat. His eyes are burning, tears clinging to his eyelashes.

"—iro?!"

Ah, fuck. Who's shaking him? He can't breathe! Everything's so blurry. The air is so disgusting, that white shit is so suffocatingly hot and the hoofbeats are deafening like a prelude to battle and that voice—

"Jiro! Jiro!"

He's not Yujiro, he's—

"Just a bit longer, Jiro. We're almost there."

—This language isn't Alt'an.

"Just hold on to me, just like that."

Hold on? Hold on to what? Who?

Yujiro blinks harshly, coughing wetly. She wasn't this short. She was never this weak. She isn't—

His breath seizes in his throat, fingers white as porcelain snapping up to rub his eyes, then map his face in alarm.

Something acidic rises in his throat when he blinks to look at those trembling hands. Then he notices the hair in the corner of his burning eyes.

Black.

Her hair wasn't black. Her legs weren't this short, her mouth wasn't this small, her teeth didn't feel like this, she wasn't this young, she wasn't this emotional—

She wasn't... this.

He...? What's his name again?

Can someone tell him who he is? Aleron? Selene? Julien? Where's Niko? Where's everybody? Who're the people around him? Shukara? Dan?

Who's the kid looking at him like that? Like they're family—

"Yuu?" He blurts. His voice sounds different than what he expected. Different like his tongue, like the burn of his lungs for every breath he takes. Like fire. It's disconcerting, warping, and it makes him feel sick and lost like he's been shoved into a box he's outgrown.

"Yuu," Yujiro repeats firmly, and again as if to ground himself, "Yuuri."

He's Yujiro. Yujiro Shibuya.

He belatedly realises he's hyperventilating. Again. Again? What does he mean by again?

"Yuuri?" Yujiro blinks, past the blur to the confusion mapping Yuuri's face. He blinks again, harsher this time, eyebrows creasing at the red of Yuuri's eyes.

"Yujiro?" Yuuri pulls away, recognising the fear bleeding out those coal eyes.

"Wh-what?" He hiccups, flinching when sunlight glares through the dusty windows.

Windows? He's in a house? Where? Weren't they in another world? Next to some village?

He shoves his hair away from his face, glancing at the window, heart racing in his chest a million miles a second.

She—he thinks he's going to vomit, but he swallows it down and turns to Yuuri.

His brother. Shibuya Yujiro's younger twin brother. He's also the younger brother of Shibuya Shouri, child of Shibuya Shouma and Shibuya Miko. He has a biological family, a mother, a father, a younger and older brother. He's Japanese. Asian. Earth. No, not her Earth. Other Earth. This Earth. This life.

Right... Yujiro's eyebrows furrow further, opening his mouth, hesitant. " _Why_..." he says slowly and meticulously, " _have_... _you—_ " No, that's the other language, her's, "—Why have... you been... crying?"

"You—" Yuuri chokes on a sob, voice thick with emotion, digging his nose into the crook of his neck as if to melt into him, "—He did something—something different—to you!"

Who did what? Him?

"That man!" He sniffs, hugging Yujiro tighter. "The blonde one in the village, the one who held your head! The one you pointed his sword at!"

Yujiro's jaw slacks, frozen and rattled. Her memories reappear with bitter clutter like the bile in his throat.

"I—her—mean me—feel 'ick—"

A strong grip pulls him away, warm hands helping him outside where the clean air carrying a hint of rot and sweet vegetation fills his nose. They circle his back, soothing to his bones heavy with fatigue, and help him cough out the acrid substance.

It lingers on his tongue, the remnants burning where it came from when something cold is pressed next to his lips.

It's wet and solid, and Yujiro realises it's water. Spluttering on the first sip, he blinks at the light grey strands of hair fluttering over his shoulder and looks up. His jaw slacks at the heavenly deep wells of violet flooding with concern.

Him?

He shifts away from the revolting mess he's made, tentatively holding the leather pouch, brushing the man's fingers.

The second sip of water hits the back of his throat, and he doesn't splutter this time. Except he's dizzy when the sun shines directly on his face. It feels disgusting, like the sweat on his skin. He wants to scrub it off, even if it leaves his skin red and raw, but another nudge of the leather pouch against his lips and the cool, metallic water helps settle it somewhat.

Another shudder wracks his body, and he curls his arms around himself. His clothes are still wet, his blazer somehow still there.

The beautiful man says something in a language he doesn't understand, but his voice is nice to listen to.

There's a heaviness in steps when he staggers towards the stone house, eyes sweeping around.

Thoughts warped by her memories remain etched in his mind. They continue to tear his heart apart, every minute, every moment like the fatigue that sinks in his bones and eyelids.

The nice baritone voice sounds next to his right ear, and he pries his eyes open to find himself leaning against the wall of the house.

Another shudder jerks his shoulder, releasing a shaky exhale to slump down, heels digging into the dirt.

Shit.

The man lets out a cry of alarm, but he couldn't care less at this moment.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, _shit—_

Yujiro rakes his hands through his hair, eyes darting around the ground and fingers curling into his short, wet locks with sharp knuckles digging into his scalp.

"Shit," he hisses, breath painfully seizing in his throat and swelling into an excruciating lump.

Who is he? Is he Sylvia or is she Yujiro? Is he a she? Is he Number Seven? She hates Number Seven, hates that name, that number, that title. As does he.

His eyes burn again but he grinds his teeth, stifling the whimper into his hands through a series of harsh blinks.

"Jiro?! Jiro! What happened—"

Yujiro pulls his knees to his chest, digging his face into them, arms securing his head down with a muffled cry.

Fucking hell.

Fucking. Hell.

_"How the frozen bloody shit am I supposed to know who I fucking am?!"_

He wants to break down crying, but he can't. She doesn't cry, like him, because they can't cry.

"She—" Yujiro inhales sharply, hiccuping, "—me—I—we—"

_'Erase this weakness at once Number Seven.'_

"'m not—"

_'You are one of the Horrors. Weakness is forbidden. Do you understand, Number Seven? You only exist to obey.'_

"I'm not Number Seven, not Number Seven, not Number _Seven, not Number Seven, not Nu_ —"

"Y-yujiro? YUJIRO!—"

" _—mber Seven—"_

"YUJIRO—"

* * *

"I apologise, Your Majesty," Gunter's violet eyes soften as carefully picks Yujiro up in his arms before hardening with raw anger. "It appears while Adalbert pulled the stored language from Your Majesty's soul, he wrenched the door to His Highness' soul open and resurrected unnecessary memories! His Highness is suffering knowing his soul's past travels."

Yuuri lowers his head, fist trembling. "No."

"Your Majesty?"

"Jiro wasn't suffering," he exhales heavily, "He was lost in them."

Gunter's eyes widen, lips trembling and fury contorts his face.

"He... didn't—" Yuuri inhales sharply, tears building in his eyes and chokes on a broken sob, "—Jiro didn't recognise me."

* * *

A pounding headache forces Yujiro to crack his eyes open, blinking his bleary eyes at a blurry white when the sound of shuffling makes his ears ring.

Scrunching his nose, his hand gropes around for his pillow and covers it over his ear, shifting over to his side. Then, he bolts upright, alarm making his body light and pulse rush in his ears as his gaze whips around the room.

Then he remembers.

"Yuuri!" He staggers off his bed, bare feet pressing against the cold floor, running away from the head of dark green hair to the large grand wooden door. Swinging it open, Yujiro darts down the stone-brick corridor hanging with extravagant hanging chandeliers.

The only people he sees are women dressed as maids besides the armoured guards who continue to chase him while shouting.

Yujiro inhales deeply, hollering despite the soreness itching his throat.

He hears more clanging of armour and whips his head around for an escape as he rushes into what he notes is an open corridor next to open ground.

The familiarity of the efficiency fills his limbs when he jumps down. Tuck, roll, left shoulder, palms flat, push, feet, and run.

His feet dig into the mud as he runs across the field onto dried dirt, fixated on a gleaming sword once he sees it.

It's almost breathtaking when he reunites with it. Of course, the grip feels different, everything about him is different, but when he slices with the sword, thrusts, cuts and darts across the grass with ingrained footwork, he bursts into a wide smile before turning his head towards the approaching armed guards.

He can't believe it. How fast, though still slow compared to her, he is.

It's exhilarating. It's like he's dancing in rain and it makes the blood singing in his bloodvessels sing like a choir, wanting to flow out into the world.

So he lets it out.

"No-one—"Yujiro's lips pull back into a sneer, looking up at the frozen group of guards who stopped flooding into the field as rain plummets from the now-stormy skies, drenching his body with euphoria-like power, "—hurts my family and flees."


End file.
